


Long Night

by Python07



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, little scenes, poking fun at this dumpster fire, snarky Davos, spoilers for ep 8.3: The Long Night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 01:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: This is me venting over this terrible episode. Prepare for tongue-in-cheek sarcasm.





	1. Not-Simon #1

Back in another life, he was known as Simon of House Bracken of Stone Hedge. His family was sworn to service of House Tully of Riverrun. He was the third son. He loved reading, horses, and archery. He hoped to eventually train to be a Maester. Instead, he went to war as little more than a boy. He broke and ran during battle while his comrades were slaughtered. He went to the Wall for his cowardice.

Now, he had no memory of that life. He had no memory of his former family and everything else he’d loved. He had no memory of any of the joys or sorrows that made up Simon.

His hair was white instead of sandy blonde. His eyes were ice blue instead of deep brown. His skin was blue instead of his old olive complexion. He wore black instead of his house’s sigil.

He no longer had a name. He no longer had any fear of death. He felt nothing. All he had was a purpose.

However, he did hesitate as he approached the Night King. He glanced over his shoulder at his fellow white walkers. They nodded for him to keep going.

If he was still Simon, he would’ve rolled his eyes. Instead he stopped behind the Night King, planted his ice spear, and went down on one knee. He bowed his head.

The Night King turned and stared down at him. His lips twisted into a cold smirk. //Yes?//

He kept his eyes down. //Why aren’t you calling a blizzard down onto Winterfell before we attack? It worked at Hardhome.// He peeked up but couldn’t read the Night King’s face. He hastily dropped his eyes again. //Their army is outside the walls. It would disorient them.//

The Night King nodded. //Logical.// He grabbed former Simon’s ice spear and drove it into his chest. //We can’t have that.//


	2. Snarky Davos

Davos freely admitted that he wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t a tactician, unless he was at sea. He was a novice at ground warfare when compared to men like Jamie Lannister, Jorah Mormont, Jon Snow, and the Hound. He didn’t have the brains of Tyrion Lannister or Varys.

He’d only survived Blackwater Bay and the Battle of the Bastards. What did he know anyway?

He voiced his concerns, but they ignored him. Fine. If they all agreed with this plan, it had to be good. Right?

He climbed the battlements and watched the army unfurl outside of the walls. The Unsullied, Dothraki, the Wildlings, and Northern army all gathered together was something to see. They would give any other army pause, but not the army of the dead. What did they have to fear, except fire?

He frowned. He still didn’t get it. He had to be the problem because he was not a learned man.

Why didn’t they cover the area in bonfires? Why no bonfire perimeter? Why is there only one trench and why didn’t they douse the wood in oil? Where were the barrels of burning oil or pitch? Their enemies were allergic to fire. Why wasn’t there more fire?

They had two fucking dragons. If the army of the dead is really out there, why weren’t the dragons lighting them up already? Were they waiting for an engraved invitation from the Night King himself?

Why was the light cavalry in front? He’d been around Stannis long enough to know what cavalry was for and it wasn’t a blind charge into a horde of zombies in the dark. Wouldn’t that just provide more soldiers for the Night King’s army?

Why was the next line trebuchets?

Why was any of their army outside the walls and on the wrong side of the trench? 

Why were all of their best archers in the Godswood with Bran instead of on the battlements?

He turned away from the view. He bowed his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He really needed to just stop thinking about it. It was him that was the problem. It had to be him.

This was a good plan.


End file.
